


Who?

by stubborngal



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, Gift Fic, Heavily Implied Sheith, I am very sorry, M/M, Mentions of medication, Post season 8 Voltron, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Shiro (Voltron) is a Mess, Shiro I love you, hate it, mentions of adam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 13:12:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17244842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stubborngal/pseuds/stubborngal
Summary: Shiro has a nightmare.Shiro does not know who's the man next to him.And more importantly, Shiro doesn't know where Keith is.





	Who?

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic in this fandom and is a lil something for two of my friends. They cosplayed Sheith (♡´艸`) and it was perfect so I took inspiration from one of their pictures to write this piece.  
> This was supposed to be a feel good sheith fic, BUT season 8 got in between (_　_|||) and I had to change the prompt.  
> Anyway, hope you guys like this lil late present (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

 

 

The breeze was both fresh and humid. The crisp end of the grass added its sweet aroma as it danced alongside the tiny white flowers to sway in rhythm with the clinging leafs.

Shiro laid on the grass, head cushioned on someone’s lap. A gentle touch of a rough hand threading and brushing the strands of his hair kept him relaxed.

One strand to the right, another curled around a finger and a bit of a tug.

Insistent light swirled from above warming his skin and hitting his closed eyes as his eyelashes fluttered.

With a discontent grunt, Shiro opened his eyes, focusing his sight to the illuminated place.

Among the green hues of the tall trees, Shiro devised a familiar structure.

He frowned.

 _Was that a hangar?_ He thought.

“Shiro.”

As fast as he could, Shiro whipped his head towards that voice. Keith’s voice.

Keith’s eyes crinkled and his lips curled into a shy smile. One that used to be shown only to him. “Had a good nap? You slept for a while.”

“…I did?”

Keith’s eyes softened and he spoke. But Shiro could not hear a word. He only saw Keith’s mouth move forming short muted phrases, which turned into longer ones.

Keith’s expression went dull and hopeless. Gleam lost as Shiro could not reach for him. He could not understand.

Then, in a blink of an eye, the ground was gone. One arm chopped off as Shiro fell—No, as they fell.

Keith has his eyes shut, tranquil and willing to fall to a shared end while debris of all shapes and sizes rained around them. Keith tightened his hold on Shiro’s writs and Shiro felt useless, and so very guilty.

He called for Keith as loud as he could.

He called for Keith to apologize for that everlasting mark.

He called for Keith to open his eyes.

He called for Keith to not give up.

Yet they kept falling, chased by a giant piece of metallic debris whose mass approached them at a horrid speed. Looming over them ripped a silent scream from his throat, terror reigned his senses until his back crashed on another surface and Keith’s body collided against his, debris following in tow.

“Takashi—!”

Shiro heaved, trashing against a clump of cotton sheets and a strangers touch. “Who—!?”

“Calm down! You were—”

He needed space.

Shiro pushed the stranger off him and rushed to sit up. The world spun around making him confuse up from down. “Keith? Keith where are—?” Shiro asked as he desperately looked around, twisting and untwisting his body, slowly assimilating and taking notes of his whereabouts. However, the more he saw the more it confused him.

“…W-where’s Keith?” Shiro asked once again, knots coiling in his stomach.

The voice paused before responding. “Keith is not here, Takashi.” Wary, the man scooted closer. Immediately after, Shiro grew tense, shoulders stiff and close to his ears. The man stopped. “Do you want me to bring your medication?” He said with a cautious tone.

Shiro shifted in place and looked up at him. His breath hitched, his eyes went wide. “…Adam?” he muttered.

The man stared back at him, dumbstruck. “Takashi, what?”

Adam sounded different. “No… You are not Adam.” Furthermore, Shiro remembered seeing his name carved on the memorial wall. “Adam is…” cutting himself off, Shiro abandoned that sentence out of comfort.

The bed whined as the other body moved.

“Who are you? Where is Keith? Where is—” Suddenly, the lights turned on and Shiro flinched; images of iron ceilings with blinding lights, black straps depriving him from movement and blood-curling grins assaulted his mind.

Shiro couldn’t hear that man anymore. But he could feel the trickle of sweat coming from every pore, palpitations hammered echoing all the way up to his ears and the jarring heaving began once more. Things were melting together and Shiro could not keep up, he grew dizzy.

“Takashi!”

He has to breathe.

He couldn’t he couldn’t he couldn’t he—

_“Long breaths Shiro… You are going to be fine.”_

Long breaths… he tried up to no avail. He couldn’t do it.

_“Come on, take long breaths with me.”_

With him. Long breaths with him.

_“That’s right. Just like that. You are doing great Shiro.”_

In, hold it and then out. Each time a little slower. In, hold it and then out.

_“I’m not moving from here, old timer. Once it’s over you are going to have to move so we can fit.”_

Fit? Fit where? Shiro quickly touched around vaguely understanding dimensions.

Big, heavy hands came to his shoulders and Shiro lost the pacing.

“Takashi—”

He wasn’t Keith. Where was Keith?

“Takashi listen. You are having a—”

He heard him a second ago. Keith said he was going to stay, then where was he? Was it out and then hold? Where was Keith? In and then in again? No that was wrong. Where was Keith?

“—episode and I don’t—”

Shiro couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t get any of what that man was saying. Was it important? Did he know where Keith was?

“—how to help you—”

Shiro brought both hands to the front of his shirt, gripping the fabric in a poor try to stop the straining ache in his chest.

“—calling for help now!”

When the pressure disappeared from his shoulders, Shiro made one last strenuous attempt to sort his head out and demand answers. Nevertheless, before he could speak up everything came to an abrupt halt as a dark mantel shut his existence down.

…

Shiro laid unconscious in bed, head luckily cushioned on his pillow, blissfully unaware of the chaotic scene displaying outside of his wrangled mind.

**Author's Note:**

> season 8 who? celery who? citrus who? the man who? (◕ω◕✿)


End file.
